


14 letters to my brother, or suicide notes

by thegoldensun (thesecondsmile)



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Epistolary, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Linear Narrative, Open to Interpretation, Pre-Canon, Self-Worth Issues, Smaurent, Suicidal Thoughts, Victim Blaming, laurent needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29709366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecondsmile/pseuds/thegoldensun
Summary: Dear Auguste,
Relationships: Auguste & Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 23





	14 letters to my brother, or suicide notes

**Author's Note:**

> Fic inspired by ['14 Lines from Love Letters or Suicide Notes'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iy4cEW15SdE) by Doc Luben, one of my favourite spoken word poets. It is an incredible work and I heavily encourage you to listen to it (and his other works).
> 
> TWs in end notes.

_1._

_Dear Auguste,_

  
  


I sometimes wonder if all the goodness and strength of character in our bloodline went to you. As you grew up, our parents must have been brimming with pride to see you develop into such a fine young man and promising future king. Now, you rule justly, and righteously. You honour our parents’ legacy. (Was there ever a time when you did not yet know you were one day to be king?)

I came along, more than a decade later, and I have your fair hair and blue eyes, but little else. You illuminate a room with your laughter but I find myself always trapped in the dark. You bring comfort and safety to a nation while I seek refuge for myself in books. 

Please do not be mistaken — I have never once hated you or wished you ill, for how can one hate the sun or despise it for its splendour? No one who sees the Veretian sunrise can do anything but to marvel at its beauty and welcome the brightness that it brings to the day, just as your reign has been a joy to all of our people. 

It seems sometimes that you are the only thing I have ever been able to love, so maybe all of my heart (however small) was poured out to you. Everyone would call me a fool for how much I adore you, but if they cannot see your brilliance, I think that they are the ones that are truly blind. (The same goes for you, because you don’t seem to know how much of a light you have been in my world.)

Or perhaps, I have simply been blessed with sight. (Is this my inheritance?) 

From the moment I was born, you were my big brother, my sworn protector. How could I admire and respect anyone more? ~~Do you feel the same?~~

I wonder, do you ever wish that our parents had stopped with you?

_2._

As a child, I remember being deathly afraid of the dark. It wasn’t becoming of a prince to snivel at imaginary monsters or bandits in the shadows but when one is alone so very much, you tend to create company for yourself that never quite disappears even at night. 

Trembling with fear I was too afraid to admit to, I would march bravely to your room because I knew my brother would gallantly vanquish all my demons and slay any beasts that threatened to harm me. 

(How amused Jord must have been at the haughty child of four proudly traipsing to the Crown Prince’s room, trailing a worn stuffed pony, declaring that he was going to guard the heir to the throne?)

You would groggily rub sleep from your eyes before immediately surrounding me in a comforting hug that promised without words that I would be safe. When my shivers finally subsided, you would whisper that you had a secret to tell me, smiling tenderly at my wide-eyed stare. For a moment, I would be so intrigued by the prospects of a private secret between us brothers (sworn to secrecy by a sacred and binding pinky swear) that all worries of lurking dangers were forgotten. 

A sparkling glimmer in your eye (which only added to the mystery of the moment — could it be pixie dust?), you would regale me with incredible stories of a world beyond our own, with myths and legends far greater than I could imagine. I would listen awestruck, eager to find out all I could about this strange, new universe. You told me that you had gained entrance to the faery court through a series of remarkable feats for which they had granted you protection, and as your brother, I was included as well.

I was child enough to believe every word you said (though I admit that time has not changed that much) and I was wholly captivated by the tales you spun of noble enchanted warriors atop fearless winged steeds fighting battles on my behalf, hidden by magic but faithfully standing guard as I slept. You wove fantastical fables of mystical veils placed over my bed that would safeguard me from all evils and each word left me enraptured.

(Years later, I would despair for not having known about the evils that lurked in muted flickers of candlelight. If I had told you, would you have been able to lay a protection spell over someone else’s bed?)

With your assurances of a whole other ethereal realm defending me at your command, all of my fears were allayed. If I had wanted to, I could have revelled in the peaceful quiet of a night I knew was free from monsters because they had been firmly chased away by my heroic big brother. Still, I pretended to shy away from shadows and clutch tightly onto my covers so you would linger longer in my chambers to reassure me. Even then, I would sometimes still tiptoe to your room and slip under the covers where I could feel your arms wrap securely around me. The sweetest dreams were always felt in your arms.

Now that I am older, would you still welcome me if I crept into your room seeking the comfort of a brother?

_3._

  
I once saw a man set himself on fire.

I had snuck out of my tutor’s class (it was _so_ dull; I fail to understand how etiquette classes on how to properly conduct myself during a meal with a representative from one of Patras’ minor royal families can be of any importance) and was reading in one of the private chambers when I heard a commotion in the courtyard. It instantly piqued my childish curiosity so I ran out to peer round a pillar when I saw him with a pine torch in his hand.

He was a frustratingly average-looking person, clad in the most common of well-made Veretian garments that marked him as one of the noble class. The kind of man you would walk past without sparing a single glance, whether he was standing against one of the ornately carved walls of our most lavish ballrooms, or haggling with a merchant in the middle of the market. There was absolutely nothing outstanding about him at all, so he could be anyone.

(Then again, thinking back, now that I know what to look out for, there was something desperate, something almost half-crazed in his eyes. In truth, it frightened me greatly, like something in him had shaken loose.)

This is what confounds me: how could so ordinary a person do something so drastic? Every child learns the danger of fire at an early age, and once one has been burned, one is all too eager to do anything to avoid a repeat of the experience. The feel of flames licking at your skin is a particularly exquisite agony that even I would not wish on my worst enemy.

And yet there he was, pine torch in hand, startling bright even against the light of the day. My first reaction, strangely enough, was not to question why a man would be holding a torch in his hand in the centre of the palace courtyard no less with the sun shining brightly overhead. Instead, I couldn’t help but marvel at the strange dissonance of someone choosing to hold fire in the middle of the day when it was far from a necessary task. It seemed to me that the only reason one would willingly place themselves in dangers’ way would be out of necessity, or stupidity. 

Still, he let out one great big sob before a sense of calm seemed to wash over him. For a moment, he looked almost at peace. Then, he dropped the torch and his body was engulfed in an inferno of his own making. 

(It took eight months for me to grow my hair out to look like yours. It took three seconds for his to burn to ash.)

He was screaming even before the flames took him. 

The guards were on him in an instant, trying pointlessly to stamp the flames out but he was already gone. (I don’t think I can ever forget the smell of someone on fire.) By this time, you had come out as well and you immediately ran my way and wrapped me tightly in your arms, covering my face in your chest. _Don’t look, don’t look Laurent,_ you whispered to me fiercely.

It was too late. The sight of his body set ablaze was already seared into my mind and I could see the bright roar of fire even when I closed my eyes. I was so shaken by the scene that I could only shiver mutely in your arms, willing it all to go away. My mouth couldn’t form the words, but the whole time I remember thinking, _Auguste, I don’t understand it at all. Please brother, enlighten me: what could possess a man to set fire to his own skin?_

I said earlier that I thought the only thing that could push someone to play with fire was stupidity or necessity. At that moment, it didn’t seem like either. (I know now, that necessity can be more than a knife pressed to your back at that very instant. Perhaps in some way, this was something that he had to do.) 

I still think about it to this day: at what point was he already dead?

_4._

I am sorry to bring up so many stories from the past today, brother, but I must make a confession.

That night, after the banquet welcoming the Patran prince, you told me to go to my room and rest for the night. The hour was late, much later than I would usually be allowed to stay up till, but it would be quite the spectacle if the young prince of the hosting kingdom had to retire prematurely just as the festivities were to begin because it was past his bedtime, a fact which I all too gleefully informed you of. You sighed heavily but knew you were beaten and had the good humour to acquiesce to my smugness gracefully.

Here is where I must admit to my wrongdoings: While I did allow Jord to escort me back to my chambers, I’m afraid that I did not stay there for long. I was unable to sleep, still alert and very much taken by the intrigue of the night (perhaps the four sips of wine I snuck were to blame — another mischief I hid from you), so I slipped out from my room and made my way back to the hall. My small size was a great asset then and enabled me to slot myself quite comfortably in the crook of a pillar from the balcony overlooking your table.

I had always known that you would one day take the throne, but tucked away in that corner, I witnessed for the first time how others saw you as a _leader_. You skillfully answered their double-edged questions and fended off poorly-veiled diplomatic overtures with all the grace of a ruler. To me, you were always just my brother, but at that moment, you were my King. 

As the night dwindled down and the stocks of wine with it, the atmosphere became less charged and tongues grew looser. Each turn of words between lords was fascinating, but the conversation that caught my attention the most was when you sheepishly admitted to the woman from Vask that your knowledge of the languages of their mountains was lacking.

The very next morning, I began to study the Vaskian dialects, if only in the hope that you might be proud of me.

(Did it work?)

_5._

Brother, something has been weighing heavily on my mind and I seek your counsel. I hope that you can alleviate my troubles.

All the nobles in the Veretian Court says that I have no heart, or if I do, that it is made of ice. Ice, cold, the lack of heat. The kingdom believes that I am emotionless, that I have no soul. 

You always laugh and tell me not to pay any mind to the gossip of silly, ignorant people who have nothing better to do than to chatter idly about vapid, inane subjects they have no knowledge about (some of the adjectives may be my own). I try to listen, truly, but in this case, I am hard pressed to think otherwise. How could it not be the truth, when everyone says the same thing, and I believe it too?

It seems that I can only be defined by what I am not. Not kind, not warm, not even human. Most of all, I am not you. 

Is it possible to be nothing at all?

_6._

You asked me, once, what I would want to be if I were not a prince, if I could be anything I wanted in the world.

I let you believe that I was simply too embarrassed to share my answer at first because to have a silly response was far better than to have no response at all. (I couldn’t very well admit the truth, that the question had never crossed my mind before you asked it, because it would have made your face crumple into the most sorrowful of smiles for what sort of child does not dream?)

I stumbled and blushed and looked at my shoes before shyly muttering something about being a sailor, or perhaps a dolphin. Vere is known for its lush forests and exquisite architecture, but your eyes made me long for the ocean.

You laughed brightly and teased that there were no horses to ride in the ocean and that with my fair skin, the lobsters would get me if the mermaids didn’t first. I blushed furiously and refuted that lobsters were only red once they were cooked, trying all the while to hide the flush in my cheeks. That just made you laugh harder though you had to concede to my rebuttal.

(I was proud at having bested you once again in our battle of wits, but even more so at having made you laugh.)

You secretly admitted to always having wanted to be part of a travelling circus troupe so you could see the world and stun countless numbers of people with your amazing tricks. I wryly pointed out that you already made a foolish spectacle of yourself on a regular basis and began to regale you with the many tales in which you had been skilfully playing the part of a clown. 

I was only able to get out two stories before you were coming swiftly for me, hands poised to assault my sides, a mischievous glint in your eyes. The afternoon quickly dissolved into laughter and when Mother found us rolling on the floor of the study, I proudly explained that I was helping you fulfil your ultimate destiny.

She didn’t find that to be a noble enough aim to justify us skipping out on our lessons and forced us both to do ten extra pages of translation. We griped and moaned the whole time, but no one could miss the fact that we were both smiling like a pair of clowns.

(I wonder now how the day would have gone if I had told you the truth. I wonder if you realised that there was something I was hiding. I didn’t tell you that I had never thought of it before because there was no need to dream when I already had you as my brother.)

_7._

I remember the way you looked at me that day — hurt and betrayal. Were you ashamed of me, for my lack of honour and duplicity, or at yourself, for raising me to turn out this way? I do not know which option hurts me more.

Even now, with that image of your face seared forever in my mind (you always said that I had an excellent memory), I fear that I cannot bring myself to regret what I had done. The court looks upon me like a viper, the guards gossip about the prince of ice and I’m not sure if my brother will ever look at me the same way, but the King lives another day.

(People say that I am a vicious, soulless creature. I do not know that they are wrong but it still hurts.) 

I know it was not right but I don’t know how else to protect you.

_8._

The first time Uncle touched me, it felt like kindness.

It was at your coronation ball and the whole palace was quivering with excitement. After the heavy grief that blanketed the kingdom following Father’s death, the crowning of a new king to usher in a new age of prosperity and renewal was creating a breathless joy that spread amongst all the people. 

It was a jubilant occasion, and you were brimming with pride, bright smiles for everyone, so of course I was sulking in a corner. Your responsibilities had been slowly increasing over the years, but this was the first time I realised that I was no longer going to be the centre of your world. There was now a whole nation of people who were more important than me.

There I was, brooding along the back wall in my boyish pettiness, when Uncle came up to me. He took in my sour expression and laughed before resting one friendly hand on my shoulder. _You’re growing up now, Laurent,_ he said. _Your brother is King now, so he won’t have time to play with and coddle you anymore._

The words brought hot tears to my eyes and I tried to furiously wipe them away. Uncle just leaned over and took my hands in his own before gently swiping a finger across my cheek. He was my only other family left, and with you having taken on such a great new responsibility, he was the only one who would still love me.

I leaned into his comfort and the first time he brought me to his room, I willingly followed.

When you found out what we were doing after I accidentally let it slip, I don’t think I have ever seen you angrier. You stormed right over to Uncle’s chambers and sent him to the floor. You looked like you could have killed him with your bare hands and I was trembling in the corner, trying to hide myself away in the too-familiar bedsheet. You walked over to me with rage still in your movements and I flinched away, unconsciously fearing that you might hit me too.

That response made you falter, and I watched you crumple in front of me. You held me close and cried endless tears. In that instant, I couldn’t help but delight in the fact that you were holding me for the first time in months. I know it was terrible, and I hate myself for taking pleasure in your sorrow.

I don’t know if I am sorrier for having told you, or for not. 

I hate to say it (please forgive me, brother), but I am a dreadfully selfish creature. Underneath it all, I am an ugly thing and I was just so glad that Uncle still found me beautiful.

Every time he kissed me, I could imagine I was loved.

_9._

You are terrible at playing chess.

It astounds me that someone who is meant to rule a whole kingdom might be so incredibly inept at strategy and managing just sixteen pieces. (Jord and the entire Captain’s Guard should thank their lucky stars that someone else organises the soldiers because judging by the fate of your Knights in every game, the entirety of Vere would have fallen in a fortnight if it were up to you.)

I was convinced for months, _years_ even that you were deliberately letting me win to spare my feelings. It confused me to no end why you would persist in allowing me to have you in checkmate within a dozen moves when you had long since stopped pretending to ‘accidentally’ be disarmed by a five year old with a wooden sword. ~~I even wondered if it was truly so pleasant to see me smile.~~

It wasn’t until I turned twelve that it finally occurred to me that you might truly be that awful at the game. Once that realisation dawned on me, I began carefully scrutinising your conduct during our matches: the nervous way you bit your lip when you struggled to discern my strategy, the perpetual furrow in your brow as if the entire game had gone over your head (or like you couldn’t quite remember how each piece moved).

My mind was blown. I had just discovered that my genius brother was _actually_ just about as skilled at chess as a blind goat randomly knocking over the pieces with its ears. 

It couldn’t have been fun for you, not having any idea of what was going on and being thoroughly trounced each time by someone half your age. It certainly wasn’t a challenge for me either; I have met children who put up more of a fight than you did. 

Still, I never said anything and we would laugh and talk the entire time (although I now know that my jests held much more truth than I knew at that time). Those moments filled me with such a quiet joy and I would not have given those precious hours with my brother up for the world. I like to think that that was also the reason why you didn’t.

(I still don’t understand how someone who commands the army can be so hopeless at strategy.)

_10._

I question sometimes why I am here at all. 

_The spare heir._

An accident years after the royal couple birthed their golden prince, a footnote in the rich tapestry of this excerpt of Vere’s history. I was the shadow lurking in the background, granted the luxuries of my station though all knew that I would be no more than a privileged figure fading into obsolescence far quicker than the silver spoon in my mouth. 

You were far into your years by the time I was learning to speak, already being groomed to be king. Once you had your heir, the line of succession would continue with your lineage, and I would be pushed further into the dust of history. 

You though, my most beloved brother, you never made me feel like I was unimportant, like I was anything but the centre of your world. In turn, I truly believed you to have hung the moon. Even now, I am convinced that the stars gleam as a reflection of your smile.

I only wished that everyone else had a fragment of the esteem you (for some reason even I, in my infinite wisdom as you say, cannot discern) hold me in. At least that way, I could be of some use to you — an extension of the enduring power of your rule. Instead, I work from the darkness, involving myself in all sorts of base, dishonourable pursuits in the hope that you can remain as magnificent and unblemished as you have always been.

Word around the court is that while you have a heart of gold, mine is made of ice. I once told you that that description might have been a little too generous — ice can melt after all — so mine was more like coal: a putrid, shrivelled mass of a thing; tainting everything it comes into contact with. 

I said it with pure vitriol and spite, because I meant to hurt. I have no affinity for the craft of war (you were always the better warrior), but I wield my words as weapons and I wanted to cut you to your knees. In a way, some dark part of me wanted to force you to admit that you thought the same, that all your praises and kind words were but sugared lies to mollify your petty little brother. 

You didn’t flinch away, nor did you try to avoid the barb with flowery, evasive euphemisms and weak denials because we both knew I would see through that in a second. Instead, you leaned down with the most tender, heartbreaking look in your eyes and ruffled my hair in a way you have not done since I was a young child not much taller than your knee. You smiled at me softly and told me, _a lump of coal you may think it to be, but with all the hardship and struggle it has been through, do not be surprised when everyone finally realises that you have a diamond inside you, brother._

You laid your hand gently over my heart and for that beat, it was like I was worth every precious gem in the kingdom. Perhaps in your eyes, I always was, and to know that was the greatest blessing of all.

Even after all these years, I have never forgotten those words and they anchor me with strength each time I find myself tested. If I can offer you nothing else, I would like to tell you how much those words, how much _you_ , my dear brother, mean to me.

_11._

Do not trust Lord Guion. He is all bluster and foolish blunder by himself, but his young son is a spy. Uncle has ~~been in~~ had his _claws_ in him for far too many years now and I fear that his loyalties are not to the Crown.

Griva is pure poison and should only be used to scrub the latrines with (though one only knows if adding filth on top of filth will actually neutralise it). Do not drink any, no matter how much the general crows about it and what everyone else is doing. (If they all jumped off a cliff, would you do the same?) I will be very cross with you if you do. 

My horse enjoys apples very much. Please make sure she gets at least one per day and remember to check for knots in her mane.

Akelios is our friend. (Despite their inability to wear more than a scrap of bedsheet on their ludicrously large bodies, the barbarians are honourable and the future king will serve as a steadfast ally.)

The Vaskian tribes are weak when they are dispersed. Slowly build up your rapport with each clan leader until your network is an empire. (We must find something else to offer them if we will not send our men to drink hakesh by the coupling fires.)

Shave your beard off. It makes you look like an idiot.

They say it is better to be loved than to be feared by your subjects. I have none of my own, so any opinion I offer would only be theoretical; not that I could have advised you on this matter either way. (My only subject is myself, and I only have experience with one of those options.)

_12._

I wish I could smile more. Every time I see your grin I wish I could gift to you just a fraction of the wonder that you show me every day. ~~How does it feel to laugh?~~

I wish I hadn’t been so afraid. Brother, you are too good to be saddled with a coward and I spend each day trying to live up to what you deserve.

I wish I wasn’t so weak. Everyone says that I have no emotions, that no one can see through my mask of apathy. But somehow Uncle could sense the rot in me. ~~I wish you wouldn’t blame him so; all he did was bring it out to the surface.~~

 ~~I wish I wouldn’t wake up screaming at the memorie— _nightmares_ of him touching me and—~~ (Do you ever mourn for the child that was lost?)

I wish we could have spent more time together. I remember when we convinced Jord that a visiting dignitary spoke none of our language and watched him valiantly try to pantomime his way through a conversation until our giggling gave it away.

I wish that we could have been born to the trees instead and spend our days freely playing in the forests with no thought for trickery or cunning. ~~(I would work the land and bring you all I could if you were willing to run away with me, I promise.)~~

I wish that I could have been a child for longer. (Could you ever know what it’s like to hate yourself?)

I wish that you find someone who makes you as happy as you have made me all my life. I hope that one day you meet your moon who can match your brightness if only by reflecting your own light to you so you may catch a glimpse of why I adore you so.

Could things have been different? Is it bad that I fear the answer?

_13._

That afternoon we spent riding in the forests is my favourite memory.

Hours away from everyone else and all the worries of the court, with horses and my brother; how could it not be?

Still, it was more perfect than I could have imagined. You woke me up with a beaming smile and it was like the sun had opened up before my eyes. You led me to the stables and we both mounted our favourite mares before setting off into the distance.

You rode surely and easily into the wilderness, and I followed eagerly as your brother who would follow you everywhere. Our horses ran with the wind in our faces and every stride was like a breath of fresh air lifting our worries with each exhale. The day was a soft warmth on our skin and the sky was celebrating your eyes by painting its blue all across its canvas. 

When we reached our usual clearing, we let our horses graze leisurely on the grass and we collapsed next to them, cheeks red with exhilaration. You told me that we were not just princes, but rulers of the world, together, and everything under the sun was ours for the taking. We lay lazily on the grass and felt its soft, green blades tickle our ankles. We spoke of visions of our kingdom and crowned each other with laurels of wildflowers threaded by our hands with Nature’s blessing.

We drank greedily from the clear stream which you said flowed waters from heaven and every splash of cool water awakened our spirits with fresh new eyes. You picked the sweetest fruit for me from the tops of our trees and I planted the seed back in the earth under your fond gaze.

We spent the whole day out together and only returned when the sun was setting on our paradise. We ran back across the plains with reckless abandon and I felt as if my heart could sing with the revelry of our freedom.

For a while, it felt like we were flying.

_14._

I have always hoped to be brave enough to one day let you know how I feel. I wonder if you will react with poorly-hidden scorn (you have never been a good liar) or embrace me with wide arms as you used to when I was just a child. Many things have happened then and I am not who I used to be.

 ~~ _I hop_ _—_ _I still thin_ _—_~~ I hope you still love me despite that.

I keep so many secrets inside my head that I dare not let out for fear that the snakes in our court and the traitors in our midst will seize them eagerly and that will be our undoing. Or that you, in your infinite goodness, will recoil in disgust at the darkness in my heart. 

Either way, I hold them closely and dearly because right from the moment of my birth, when you first held me in your arms, our fates were inextricably intertwined. Now and forever, I pledge fealty to my King, my brother, my dear Auguste. 

I wondered if I would ever raise the courage to share my deepest thoughts, fears, hopes and dreams with you. I wondered if you would ever have the occasion to learn about this final, hidden part of me and decide if I am still truly your brother. (Or rather, if I ever was in the first place.)

Today, I suppose, in these letters, you will.

_With all my love,_

_Laurent_

**Author's Note:**

> TW: References to childhood sexual abuse (including several thoughts that victim-blame), outsider perspective of a scene of self-immolation, descriptions of self-worth issues and suicidal thoughts and of course, as the title suggests, this entire work could be read as taking place in the aftermath of a suicide (though everything is open to interpretation)
> 
> This is a work that I am very nervous about posting because it means a great deal to me and is based on a poem that has had a very profound impact on me. Doc Luben is such an incredible poet who puts so much emotion and thought into each one of his performances. Another one of my favourites by him is 'Bug vs Door', which deals with the aftermath of a suicide attempt. I am a great lover of spoken word, and have dozens of recommendations if anyone is interested.
> 
> I have officially decided to make my earlier story, 'weave our goodbyes', into a multi-chapter fic and number two in a three-part series which deals with the Before and the After as well! Thank you to everyone for your support.
> 
> If you enjoyed this work, please let me know what you thought! I am growing to love this fandom more and more each day so I will hopefully be writing a lot more in the future :')


End file.
